


Queen of Swords (Inverted)

by weakinteraction



Category: Star Wars Legends: Knights of the Old Republic
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-09
Updated: 2018-09-09
Packaged: 2019-07-08 19:18:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15936641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/weakinteraction/pseuds/weakinteraction
Summary: As the Ebon Hawk speeds through hyperspace in search of another Star Map, the crew has a little time to train, and to reflect.





	Queen of Swords (Inverted)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [gamerfic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/gamerfic/gifts).



Bastila activated her lightsaber. The shimmering blades cast yellow-tinged shadows everywhere, making the cramped confines of the cargo bay seem eerie, almost haunted.

She had expected to see the deeper shadows behind the storage crates and plasteel cylinders fill with violet light reflected from Iralya's lightsaber. But she left it off, instead saying, "You know, I'm sure I heard that double-bladed lightsabers are popular with those drawn to the Dark Side."

Ah, of course. She should have known better than to open up about her trepidations earlier. Iralya had seemed then to understand, but she should have realised by now that all that meant was that the teasing would come later, in private. The woman was a maddening contradiction: kind and understanding at times -- as on Tatooine, when she had encouraged her reconciliation with her mother -- but possessed of a sense of humour that stung like a viper wasp.

And of course, there was another, deeper, darker contradiction: somewhere beneath the personality she had come to know, to ... admire, and yes, to be infuriated by all too often, lay Darth Revan. They had seen Revan's memories in their shared dreams, even though Iralya herself believed they were only visions from the Force. Bastila tried to remember what Revan had been like, those many years ago back at the Academy. She could not recall the sarcasm, could not even imagine it being deployed against Malak as they took their place at the heads of the Sith armada. Why had the Jedi Masters made this new Revan in this way? Was it necessary, a safety valve for her darker urges? Certainly the false past they had given her as a smuggler and ne'er-do-well seemed at odds with their desired goal. Was that all part of the plan, or just something that one or another of the Masters had done on a whim?

Bastila realised that she had been thinking too long. "When you asked me if I wanted to spar," Bastila said, "I did assume that you meant combat training, not verbally." Without waiting, she rushed forward, spinning her lightsaber in her hands.

Iralya jumped back just in time, activating her lightsaber to block Bastila's blow. "Attacking an unarmed opponent seems pretty Dark Side, too," she said.

She wasn't Revan, Bastila reminded herself. She _didn't know_ ; Bastila knew that her reaction to Iralya's words was disproportionate; dangerously so -- she _didn't know_ , and absolutely must not even begin to suspect from Bastila's reaction. "I was merely trying to demonstrate to you the importance of always being ready."

"Which I was," Iralya pointed out. They were face-to-face, only the crackling lightsaber blades between them. Close enough to feel one another's breath, heavy but controlled, as they strained against each other--

Bastila shoved the thoughts that rose unbidden to her mind aside. She was a Jedi. Trained, disciplined. Above petty concerns of the flesh, even the heart. And certainly not foolish enough to become entangled with such a dangerous individual. Even if -- no, especially so if -- that individual had no idea of how dangerous they were. Even if that individual was the one who had saved her life on countless occasions.

After a long moment, they both deactivated their lightsabers as one.

"If you must know," Bastila said, "I am able to control my lightsaber by applying my Battle Meditation techniques. Even as I fight, I can sense the rhythm of the battle, the currents ..."

And then, the sudden violet brightness filled her vision, and just as quickly she was reactivating her own lightsaber, bringing it up to parry the sudden blow.

"Just testing," Iralya said, a smirk twitching her lips in a way that made Bastila want very badly to kiss them. "Looks like you might be right, that you can feel ..." She trailed off, looking Bastila directly in the eye. Bastila was transfixed by the reflection of the clashing lightsaber blades in her irises.

She had felt it before it had happened, responded instinctively before even being aware of it: was that battle meditation, or had it happened through their Force bond?

Iralya deactivated her lightsaber again; Bastila followed suit a moment later. But the light in Iralya's eyes didn't go out.

Afterwards, Bastila had to contend with the fact that it was she who had made the first move: she who had thrown her lightsaber, that she had always taken the greatest care over from the time she had first constructed it, to the floor; she who had pushed Iralya up against the bulkhead; her lips that had pressed against Iralya's; her hands that had slid up Iralya's back to pull her in ...

But she also had to deal with the knowledge that Iralya had responded: that she had felt hands on her hips, pulling her closer; Iralya's mouth parting for her tongue; the warmth of Iralya's skin pressed against her own ...

When they finally broke apart, their breathing was heavy again, but uncontrolled, ragged.

"Bastila ..." Iralya said. "We should--"

And In that moment, Bastila could feel it: destiny spinning out of control. Iralya was still talking, but Bastila could no longer hear. That simple word, "should" had brought her back to her senses. Whatever Iralya was saying they should do -- whether it was "never speak of this again" or "go to my quarters" -- was irrelevant, whether it was a course of action Bastila would consider wise or not. Because the crux of the matter was that Iralya was not Iralya; or at least, not just Iralya.

This was _Revan_ , she reminded herself.

Revan, who had conquered half the galaxy.

Revan, who had betrayed the Jedi Order.

Revan, who was the galaxy's only hope.

Revan, whose life she had saved.

Revan, with whom she shared everything, except the truth.

Bastila stepped back. "This was a mistake," she said. "I-- I'm sorry. If things were different ... You-- I'm sorry."

"Bastila!"

"No, I must-- I have to go. Our mission is too important for any ... personal complications to get in the way. I'm sorry."

She turned and ran from the cargo bay.


End file.
